You Tell Me | The Year's Best Books

I still struggle to believe it's 2014, never mind the end of the year, nearly, but I'm reliably informed that I'm wrong. Not for the first time, nor the last, naturally.

The end of the year has come to mean something new to me, in recent years. There's Santa, sure; the birthday of the baby Jesus, but of course; and a bit of a break—yay! In advance of all that, though, the end of the year has, since the dawn of The Speculative Scotsman, signified a period of comprehensive critical consideration.

To that end, I tend to keep a list: of all the books I've read, the movies I've seen, the video games I've played, and so on. I failed at that in 2014, for various reasons, so forgive me, folks, if I overlook more than I usually do when the time comes to tackle Top of the Scots.

Truth be told, I was hoping we could compare notes—to begin with, about some of the best books we've read this year. Let me start you all off with a bit I contributed to the recent Reviewers' Choice on Tor.com:

2014 has been a banner year for British science fiction, beginning with The Echo by James Smythe—an immensely upsetting sequel that doubled down on the awesome promise of its unsettling predecessor—continuing courtesy Claire North’s fantastic Life After Life-alike, The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August—a very different sort of novel than The Echo, yes, yet no less memorable—and concluding, because we’re already running out of room, by way of The Bone Clocks: the closest thing the man who came up with Cloud Atlas has written to a proper genre novel over the course of his career.

Reading through the other reviewers' recommendations, it's clear that I've completely failed at fantasy in 2014. I haven't read The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison, City of Stairs by Robert Jackson Bennett or The Mirror Empire by Kameron Hurley, though I sincerely mean to make time to catch up on those books over the break.

I feel much more up to speed on my science fiction. That said, All Those Vanished Engines by Paul Park managed to pass me by, and if ever a novel had my name on it...

Horror-wise... well. Here's where the lack of a list has really ruined me. I remember really liking the opening act of Revival by Stephen King, but it ended—spoiler warning—with giant evil ants, and gah all over that. To the best of my recollection, then, the only horror story that really stands out to me is the Southern Reach series by Jeff VanderMeer. Annihilation might just be the best book of the year, according to me. We'll see.

But please, you tell me: what have you read in 2014 that really rocked your socks?

You Tell Me | A Machine for Friday the 13th

I'm not a particularly superstitious person, so the fact that it's Friday the 13th fails to inspire feelings of fear in me. That said, with the most monstrous month almost upon us, I've been reading a raft of horror novels for review in recent weeks, and I find myself drawn, quite despite myself, to terror.

I love fantasy for its epic quests, and science fiction for its breathtaking sense of scale, but it strikes me that there's nothing quite like the desperate uncertainty that the very best scary stories suggest. The exquisite thrill of the shiver or the sudden shock of something startling affects me, at least, in a much more immediate way than the slow burn of some secondary world's wonders.

Which is simply to say, I know how I'll be spending my evening: tentatively investigating the terrifying spaces of Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs. 

If it can even hold a candle to its terrifying predecessor — and coming as it does from the developers of the tremendously affecting Dear Esther, I have high hopes — I can't imagine I'll get a whole lot of sleep this weekend.

Will you be spending Friday the 13th with something unspeakably creepy?

You Tell Me | RIP, Reader

One week from today, as part of their second annual spring cleaning, Google will retire their ubiquitous Reader.

I've known about this for months, and I still don't have a clue what I'm going to do!

Here's why Google are "sunsetting" the service:

We know Reader has a devoted following who will be very sad to see it go. We’re sad too.  

There are two simple reasons for this: usage of Google Reader has declined, and as a company we’re pouring all of our energy into fewer products. We think that kind of focus will make for a better user experience.

Not for Google Reader users. Of which there must be more than a few; more than a few million, I'd imagine. Evidently that's a significantly smaller a number than it once was — and what does that say about blogs, I wonder? — but be that as it may, Google are set to stamp out something some of us, yours truly included, use every damn day.

First and foremost, Google Reader helps me keep track of all the blogs I follow, which I see now number in the hundreds. I also use it each week to organise the news stories I plan to talk about over the course of the British Genre Fiction Focus. I've never given Google a penny for the service, but I would have been well and truly willing to.

If they'd only asked! But Google don't do that, do they? And it's not like they need my pennies anyway.

Time, I think, to look on the bright side. To find a better alternative, because whether or not Google agrees, I need something to help me keep up to speed with all the shenanigans that happen when I'm otherwise occupied. And maybe this mystery service will be better than the nearly dearly departed product — which, let's face it, is at best pretty basic.

That's where you folks come in, fingers crossed, because I simply don't know where to start looking for a replacement feed reader. So please, you tell me!

You Tell Me | The Scotsman in the High Castle

In case you hadn't heard, this morning brought news of an adaptation of a classic genre novel. Via Variety:

Syfy is adapting Philip K. Dick's book The Man in the High Castle into a four-part miniseries, with Ridley Scott attached to exec produce. 

Dick's novel, set in 1962, depicts a world where Nazi Germany and Japan were the victors in WWII and occupy the U.S. 

The X-Files vet Frank Spotnitz will serve as primary scribe and as exec producer. Scott will exec produce through his shingle Scott Free Prods., alongside Headline Pictures, Electric Shepherd Prods. and FremantleMedia Intl., which will also distribute the mini globally.

"Alternate history stories are part of an amazing and intricate genre of sci-fi," said Mark Stern, president of original content at Syfy and co-head of original content at Universal Cable Prods. "When done well, there's nothing better; and I can't think of better creative talent to bring Philip K. Dick's fascinating alternate-history thriller to life than Ridley Scott and Frank Spotnitz."

Well, I can.

Be that as it may, I'll probably watch Syfy's adaptation anyway. But the announcement puts me in a particular position: though I've had a copy on my shelves for many years indeed—in large part because I bought all the original SF Masterworks I could—I haven't read The Man in the High Castle, and with this miniseries on the near to far horizon, it's become a case of now or never.

Why is that?

As I've touched on here on The Speculative Scotsman, I value surprise very highly. So highly that, if I'm honest, whether Syfy's series is awful or awesome, I am entirely unlikely to invest precious time in a tale I've already been told.

Long story short, should I read The Man in the High Castle before Syfy's adaptation airs? Or should I make like nothing's changed?

Before you offer your opinions one way or the other, know that the only the only Philip K. Dick I can recall reading is Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? I was young at the time—perhaps too young—and I didn't entirely dig it; I only persisted because of my undying adoration of Blade Runner.

But maybe the time has come to re-evaluate my stance. Maybe I should read this book before Syfy's miniseries spoils the experience for me.

You tell me!

You Tell Me | What's at the Top of the Scots?

It's that time of the year, dear readers!

Hard to believe it may be - I'm still wondering where October went, never mind November - but it's time to start thinking about 2012 as a whole. To consider the very best of the very best. And as ever, I need all the help I can get.

I go to the movies as often as I can... I play video games on the PS3, the PC and the 360... I read more books than most humans — but there's only the one of me, and I can't hope to be in any sense comprehensive. What I can do is ask you if I'm missing anything particularly significant.

So here I am, hat in hand... asking.

This post is intended as an open forum for you to put your personal favourites forward. If there's a book you think is brilliant, and I haven't already reviewed it here or on Tor.com - here's my page over there - then it's entirely likely I haven't read it. If there's some magnificent film or obscure video game that I haven't said word one about, please, point me in the right direction. 

Top of the Scots starts on December 17th, which gives us approximately ten days to talk. I can read three or four normal-length novels in that time, watch at least as many movies, and play perhaps a pair of games, depending on how long they're apt to last. I've cleared the slate specifically so I can do exactly as outlined... so let fly your recommendations, folks!

Who needs holidays, eh? :)

You Tell Me | Embracing Piracy

Today is... a special day.

Today is the first international Cuddle a Pirate Day!

Every year from here, on the third Monday of the month of September, we will be be asked to put aside our differences to give momentary comfort to criminals: to rippers and scanners and hackers, who take the labours of love our artists spends years of their lives eating last night's leavings to create, then distribute them for free on the internet.

I do not approve of these doings. Nor should you, if you've any interest in keeping the writers you love in mouldy toast and so on and so forth.

But that doesn't mean we can't all have a hug. :)

In honour, then, of said strange occasion, I wanted to point you all towards this article on Giant Bomb, which breaks down the huge boost in sales brought about when the developer of a widely-pirated video game - a fast-paced, point-and-click puzzler called McPixel - took The Pirate Bay up on an unconventional offer: essentially, Sos Sosowski agreed to advertise the torrent containing his creation on The Pirate Bay's front page. He urged potential pirates to spend some time with McPixel, and if they enjoyed it, to consider donating a little something something via PayPal.

In short, Sosowski "gave piracy a high five and came out alive."

So I was wondering: could this shock drop in the ocean turn the tide on the pirates?

Well... it's unlikely, isn't it?

That said, I think it could make a real difference in the ongoing conflict between artists and those who seek to steal their ticket to a hot dinner.

With that in mind, could this ironic reversal be applied to publishing? Because of course novels are widely torrented too: thanks to enterprising scanners, free e-books can often be downloaded day and date with the release of official printed or electronic editions.

So authors, talk to me: how would you feel about doing something along these lines? Would you be prepared to pop in to The Pirate Bay or the Mobilism forums to basically shame potential pirates into paying their way, for once?

Meanwhile, readers: I have a question for you too. What effect do you think this would have? Smelly as I don't doubt they are, put yourselves in a pirate's shoes — and let's not pretend we haven't all been tempted at some stage. Would the pleas or remonstrations of an author immediately below the big Nick This! button put you off your mooted pursuit, or are pirates simply criminals, oblivious even to personal appeals?

For my part, I believe this could be a reasonably effective means of taking some of the anonymity out of piracy. I'm sure it isn't a fix, but then I don't know that any such thing exists, or ever will.

And better a band aid than an open wound, no?

But what do I know? You Tell Me, me hearties!

You Tell Me | Getting In On Outlander

Via Deadline, Dark Horizons - my go-to source for movie news and reviews - reports than Battlestar Galactica and Carnivale showrunner Ron Moore is set to adapt Diana Gabaldon's bestselling Outlander fantasy saga into a series for cable TV.

I first heard this news on Tuesday, but it came up again yesterday, and then for a third time today. So that's the charm, and I simply had to ask: should I be paying more attention to Diana Gabaldon than I am?

For once, I can tell you exactly why I've steered clear of her work before now, though I'd be the first to admit my reasons apply only to me. Quite simply, I've never read Diana Gabaldon because, for all the wrong reasons - at least from my particular position - my mum used to love these books. Given the chance, she'd go on and on about Claire and Jamie, long past the point that everyone had started idly pushing their cuticles, and I got the distinct sense that she was reading the Outlander saga for the romance, rather than the fantasy.

Which was - and is - perfectly fine, but not what I was interested in either then, or now.

Methinks reason number two is more damning. You see, at some point, my mum went from an attitude of undying devotion to the series to one of utter disinterest. I think A Breath of Snow and Ashes put her off her coffee, because she still hasn't read An Echo in the Bone, nor - and I've asked her - does she plan to. Presumably six books of will-they/won't-they sexual tension was as she had in her... which I can kind of get behind.

But if I'm honest, I've never been able to determine if there's more to this series than that. So in light of the Ron Moore news, you tell me, good people: is the Outlander saga any good? Are its early novels self-contained and satisfying enough that I could read Diana Gabaldon's debut without feeling compelled to continue on, ad infinitum? Because that's what I'm inclined to do, assuming my mum isn't completely out of her wheelhouse on this one.

Meanwhile, who's keen to see a cable TV adaptation of the epic tale? And from the man behind the divisive modern-day interpretation of Battlestar Galactica, no less.

Is Ron Moore a good choice to bring this story into our living rooms, do you think, or are alarm bells ringing with anyone else?

You Tell Me | "Fixing" Our Favourite Fiction

So... I digressed again yesterday.

You need only look a little below this post to see my meanderings about Mass Effect 3 in full, but in brief, because it's not yet the law that you read every last word I write: I banged on about the uproar over the game's controversial conclusion, and how BioWare has in my view been its own worst enemy in terms of their reaction to the clamour for a more fitting finale.

Which is to say, in response to the complaints of a few thousand disenfranchised fans - small potatoes in the grander scheme of things, when you consider the tens of millions of units this series has shifted to date - the studio announced that a so-called "Extended Cut" of the game would be made available sometime this summer for free via a piece of DLC.

Make of that what you will. I'm certainly unhappy about how BioWare have handled the situation, but then, I still haven't played Mass Effect 3, in large because I feel like its creators have undercut the integrity of the entire series by backstepping over a little bitching.

Of course this sort of thing has happened before, in innumerable other media - in movies there are more Director's Cuts than I could count - but then, artistic visions have a long and sordid history of being compromised by studio interference, only to see the light of day a little later. In this case, the state of play is quite a bit different.

But I'm in danger of digressing again, and I'm afraid today isn't the day for another round on the ol' rollercoaster. Instead, what I was hoping to do was borrow BioWare's curious concept of what The End actually is and apply it to some of the things we all hold dear.

So books. We like those, right? :)

Thus, the question:

If The End is no longer set in stone,

which endings would you want altered?

And:

Assuming that the original author of any given

standalone or series was prepared to take another

shot at tying off his or her narrative and characters,

who and what and why would you choose?

I have two timely examples to get the ball rolling. First and foremost, I'd love it if The Dark Tower had ended a little better. I remember feeling so completely crestfallen after the conclusion of the seventh and final volume in that epic fantasy western that for a few years I wished I had devoted my time and energy reading something else.

I don't feel so strongly about it today, but only, I think, because it's been so long, and time heals even the worst wounds.

What I'm still somewhat perturbed by is the end of The Hunger Games. Which is to say almost all of Mockingjay. I won't go into detail, but if you ask me, said series went out on a bit of a bum note.

Mostly, though, I want to know what you folks would do if you were publishing overlords with the unimpeachable power to demand better endings. So...

You tell me!

And please, try not to stress about the rightness or wrongness of roundly overruling your favourite creators. After all, BioWare could give a fig about their fiction. Evidently all bets are off...

You Tell Me | What to Take to the States

This may come as a surprise to some of you - I know I've mentioned it once or twice on Twitter, and it may have come up here on the blog as well, if only in passing - but on Wednesday, I leave for America. I'll be gone quite a while, as well. Almost a month!

Predictably, this is all I can think of:

 

Except when this image has lodged in my stupidhead instead:

That's one bad-ass bird, isn't it?

Distractions aside, let me take this opportunity to assure you: I haven't forgotten you folks. Quite the contrary, as a matter of fact! You'll be very well taken of in my absence... more on which in a longer post at a slightly later date. But we've a good few things to get through first. Not least a pair of reviews that I need to post within the week, or it'll be ages and ages before you see them, if ever; after all, I can't imagine I'll be short of stuff to blog about upon my return in late April.

Meanwhile, I still have to do all my packing. All of it! Aaaaah! And then there's this dreadful fourteen-hour flight to contend with... not to mention the many days of backseat driving and train riding to follow.

Holidays, huh? Who'd have 'em? :P

Anyway, that eternal question has of course come up. With limited luggage, and an almost unlimited supply of awesome books I've been meaning to read for years, what should I take away with me?

In no particular order:

• Should I finally give A Game of Thrones a go? Or should I dig into Deadhouse Gates instead?

• Do I take one book of the Chaos Walking series by Patrick Ness, or all three? Or is there some superior YA series I'd be better off starting?

• Bearing in mind I've only read Tigana, Under Heaven and Ysabel, and of the three I adored Tigana the most, which of the books from Guy Gavriel Kay's back catalogue should I opt to take? 

• I want some good solid sf with me as well. Not the hardest of the hard, but not Neal Asher either. So what's fun but also awesome, like Leviathan Wakes was?

• Finally, I think some quality urban fantasy is in order. So: Sandman Slim, Of Blood and Honey by Stina Leicht, Storm Front from The Dresden Files, or something completely different?

You tell me!

Pretty please? :)

Incidentally, I'll be taking my tablet Stateside, so I'll have a host of e-books with me in addition to whatever else we decide on in the comments, but of late I've made a solemn vow to cease and desist re-buying superfluous electronic copies of physical books I already own. To wit, these things, all of which I have physical copies of, will be coming in my carry-on or not at all.

And there's one other decision I'd love you lot to help me make. The only potential gaming device I intend to take to America is a mid-range laptop, and I have no idea how to tell the good indie games available on Steam from the garbage. I've already downloaded Dear Esther, and it runs... well, it runs, and I suppose that's something. In short: I'd also welcome any and all gaming recommendations.

Thank you thank you thank you in advance!

...

You know I'm going to miss you guys, don't you?

You Tell Me | Referential Marketing and The Uglies

I burbled a bit about The Hunger Games on Monday, in Bargain Books, and if you cast your minds back, you might remember that I also made mention of them last Thursday, in my review of Julianna Baggot's disappointing Pure. So obviously the marketing campaign for the new movie has done the trick!

Not that that's the point I mean to make. Bear with me a moment here, and we'll find our way back to the start. First we need to factor in a third thing: another notable dystopia. Indeed, one near and dear to many hearts.

That'd be the Uglies books, by Scott Westerfeld.

Very recently Simon & Schuster revealed "incredible" new covers for all three volumes. Actually, for three of the four... because trilogies are the in thing, I suspect, and anyway Extras occupies an odd spot in the series. But here, in any event, are the new jackets:

Utterly unremarkable, aren't they?

Which is a shame, on several fronts: in the first, because this series had some pretty damn decent covers to begin with - use your google-fu, folks - but largely because with The Hunger Games in ascendance, this might be the moment to win over a fair few new readers, and these new editions aren't going to earn any admirers.

Or are they?

As a matter of fact, I think they might.

Because Simon & Schuster's marketing department hasn't entirely missed its chance to piggyback the Uglies books on this latest wave of love for The Hunger Games. Quite the contrary: you probably can't see the text at the top of each of the images embedded above, so let's recap.

The Uglies!

Which is... well. You tell me.

I don't suppose I'm terribly offended. On behalf of the series, that is. I don't think the new jackets are going to entirely outmode the old covers, and maybe a simple message like this will bring renewed interest in Scott Westerfeld's work. Hard-earned interest, I should stress. Westerfeld's quite the writer, and I can't imagine anyone who reads the Uglies because they want something not dissimilar from The Hunger Games will go home disappointed.

Still, the idea of selling one work on the merits of another troubles me somewhat, and I want to know: what do you guys think about this sort of... referential marketing? Good, bad, or butt-ugly?

And another thing. If we extend the question out a bit, how do reviews which make such comparisons sit with you?

Let's bring things full circle with a for instance. In my review of Pure - which is here - I didn't just namecheck Suzanne Collins' sensational trilogy, I took Baggot's book to task (in part) because I felt it lacked The Hunger Games' heart, and the two texts were similar enough in every other sense that I thought it'd be disingenuous of me to omit the mention. Was that a helpful sort of shorthand, or simply lazy criticism?

Honestly, I can't quite decide myself...

So how do you folks feel about all this?

Let's talk it out in the comments! :)

You Tell Me | Double Fine Crowdfunding Fun

So this is awesome.

While I was asleep last night, the highly-held developers behind Psychonauts and Brutal Legend announced that they were seeking funding for an original point-and-click adventure, a la Monkey Island and Day of the Tentacle, both of which Double Fine mastermind Tim Schafer had a huge hand in creating way back when.

They were aiming to raise $400,000 to bankroll the project. Through Kickstarter, of all things.

This of course came on the heels of a flurry of tweets yesterday between Schafer and Minecraft millionaire Notch, who had suggested he give Double Fine a bunch of money to make a sequel to Psychonauts. Very kind of him it was as well; I'd love to play one.

In any event, when I awoke this morning, I'd no sooner read the news and clicked through to the Kickstarter site to see how much money had been pledged in my absence than the project met, and then immediately exceeded, its $400,000 goal.

I went in for $20 anyway. And clearly I wasn't the only one, because at the time of this writing, there's already an additional $130k in Double Fine's point-and-click coffers, and the number keeps going up. Go us!

So I was saying: this is awesome. Agreed?

But it got me thinking, as awesome things often do, and my thinkings were along these lines: if genre readers could come together like these gamers have, in their tens of thousands to support of an author or a specific series instead of a studio like Double Fine, and a project like this forthcoming point-and-click, what would we want to spend our hard-earned on?

You tell me, ladies and gentleman: what's the sequel that you've always longed to read, if only it existed? What book would you put up a bit of your own money to see written?

For myself, I'd give, say... £100 if it'd help convince China Mieville to go back to Bas-Lag.

I love that series like no other, and as incredible as Mieville's original fiction has been since Iron Council - and it has been, make no mistake - every time a new book is announced, and I realise it's not about Bas-Lag, which I long to go back to, a little part of me laments.

That'd be my pick, in any event.

Bear in mind that this is a strictly theoretical question - I am certainly not about to kick-start a Kickstarter on China Mieville's behalf - so let's not stress about the real world impediments that might put a dampener on our imaginations. Never mind that a given author might not be interested in returning to such and such a world however much money we wave in his or her face. Never mind viability or profitability or any of those fun-sucking factors.

Saying that, no amount of money is going to bring a dead writer back to life, so let's not go beyond the pale here. If you've always wanted to read a fourth Lord of the Rings novel, sure, say so... but who would you want to write it?

Like the thing says: you tell me!